


Mind Your P's and Q's

by supersoakerx



Category: Girls (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Golden shower, Laughter, Omorashi, Urination, Urolagnia, Verbal Degradation, Voyeurism, Wetting yourself, bladder desperation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx
Summary: Watersports with Sackler, the little freak.
Relationships: Adam Sackler/Reader, Adam Sackler/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sackler discovers a new kink.

You _cannot_ stop laughing.

His big hands and thick fingers are everywhere, moving rapidly, seeking your soft sensitive parts and tickling your skin, flexing and digging in.

“Stop,” you try to say through laughter, “Sa-Sackler, ss-stop,” your giggles break up your words as you try to wriggle free from his grip. But he’s got you pinned down in one of his favourite places: on top of his mustard yellow chesterfield sofa.

“Not today, minxy,” he grunts as he straddles you, fingers teasing and tickling over every part of your body he can reach, lips and teeth munching away at your neck and shoulder in big exaggerated mock-bites like he’s Pac-Man.

It’s starting to hurt, laughing so much, and suddenly your core clenches tight, thighs trying to pull together under his weight. “Sackler,” you wheeze through breathy laughs, urgently needing the bathroom, needing to get him off you _now_ so you can make a run for it, “stop, stop, I’m gonna pee, Sa—Adam, _Adam_.”

He doesn’t let up, a raspy gravelly laugh rumbling from the back of his throat as he persists, torturing you with tickles.

But this thing is time critical, you know it. “ _AdamAdamAdam!_ ” you squeak out his name breathlessly as you writhe under him, trying to mean business.

Sackler finally relents, growling as he flops down onto the couch to your side, letting his head loll back and pouting his gorgeous lips. A very convincing display of his disappointment: if only you had seen it instead of bolting down the hall to the bathroom.

As he sits—impatiently, a deep, low grumble threatening his vocal cords—and waits for your return, he thinks about what would’ve happened if he’d kept going.

He thinks about if he’d have said, ‘if you’re gonna pee then fucking pee, little minx,’ and and, ‘do it, minxy, piss all over me,’ – and feels himself stirring in his jeans. Would you have done it? Would you have just let go? Would you make a mess of yourself like that for him?

He’s up off the couch and stalking towards the bathroom before he can even finish his thoughts, flashes of memories of some of his ex-girlfriends springing to his mind: one of them peeing in the street, and another, who he pissed on in the shower that time…

But now, Sackler wonders if _you’re_ the girl he can try this with—like really, for real, honestly and properly try this with. He wonders, and he _hopes_ , too.

As he nears the bathroom door he catches just the end of it, the tinkling trill of your urine against the porcelain bowl. Leaning his ear against the door, he thinks he hears you sigh as the stream gently trails off and splashes into the water, and it makes his dick twitch.

He inches his hand along the front of his dark-wash denim jeans, letting his mind wander, letting his desire run away with itself, his cock filling up thick and fast, long and stiff.

Suddenly—he hadn’t heard the toilet flush or the tap running while you washed your hands—you wrench the bathroom door open, surprise flashing over your face at the sight of him there.

It takes you a second. Sackler’s so close to the door he’s basically standing in the doorframe, clad in nothing but his jeans, his raven hair tousled in a thick dark mess. But it’s his eyes that demand your attention, glinting and gleaming with… that _look_ : like he wants to devour you.

“Were you…?” you trail off, eyes narrowing slightly, but you both know you mean to say _‘listening?’_

“You think I’d do that?” he asks, one of his deep dark eyes twitching for a moment, “that I wanna listen to you piss?”

You take a step towards him, unphased, and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “You tell me,” you drop your voice husky and low, almost to a whisper, in the way that makes a shiver rack up his spine, “you’re the fuckin pervert in this house.” You trail your hand up his thigh, searching for the erection you know is waiting for you.

Sackler’s nostrils flare, and he chews on his lip.

You cock an eyebrow at him, daring and challenging him to a witty retort as your palm connects with that stiff, solid protrusion you know so well.

“Ahha,” you coo breathily, like you’ve just solved a puzzle, letting a sly smile creep into your voice, “feels like you _do_ want to listen to me piss,” you whisper to him, puffing your breath over his face, “dirty boy.”

A grunting growl is all the warning Sackler gives you before he hurriedly picks you up, crosses the hallway to the kitchen in long, quick strides and unceremoniously plonks you down onto the counter, kissing you with devoted purpose and fiery passion as he rushes to unzip his fly and help you shimmy out of your panties.

**XXXX**

“ _Jesus Christ_ , would you open the _fucking_ door, Sackler?” you hiss at him, hopping from foot to foot as he fumbles with the keys.

Sackler grumbles, “shitty fuckin tiny fuckin thing,” as he tries to grip the little key in his hot, thick, sweaty fingers. “Fuckin, _open!_ ” he growl-yells at the door, not quite managing to get the key in the lock.

You’d been out on a jog together, and God fucking damn it if you weren’t hot and thirsty as all hell the whole time, not listening to him when he’d told you to ease up on the water.

Look where it got you. “Sackler, I _really_ need to fucking go,” you grit out through clenched teeth, knowing your distress and discomfort was only stressing him out but not able to stop yourself either.

“Yeah I know, I _know_ , ok?” he raises his voice, and accidentally drops the keys in his blundering haste. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“Ohffor _fuck’s_ sake,” you curse with venom, wincing as you’re quicker than him to snatch up the keys from the floor. It was a close call, bending down like that, and you ram the key straight into the lock first try, opening the door in an instant and barrelling past him to get to the bathroom with a relieved sigh of, “thank _fuck_ for that.”

“Yeah fuckin, alright,” he intones not far behind you as the front door slams shut behind him, “you’re fucking, perfect, alright? Is that what you wanna hear? Now lemme see, lemme watch you.” His heavy footfalls follow yours as you race down the hall.

“What the fuck?” you toss over your shoulder as you open the bathroom door. It’s not the fact that he’s asking, it’s that he picks _now_ as the time to ask it. You don’t even bother to close the door properly once you’re inside, you just rush to the toilet and shuck off your sports leggings and underwear, prepare to sit down on the seat and then—

“Can I watch you?” Sackler stands in the sliver of open door.

Urgent pressure pools in your lower gut, a pulsing, desperate need, and you freeze. “Sackler—,”

“Please.” His eyes are big and black and pleading and wanting, and you can’t hold on much longer anyway, even if you wanted to.

“Fine,” you huff, and drop down your ass down onto the seat with a thud. You take a breath, relax and—

Softly, slowly, with the press of one finger Sackler inches the door open a little wider. “Can’t fucking, see, out here—wanna see you better,” he says, and swallows thickly.

He stands in the doorway, his eyes glued to you, and everything inside you suddenly clamps up. His name falls from your lips in a shaky breath, while your lower abdomen, your bladder, feels full and heavy but locked up tight. You can’t, your every instinct telling you not to let go, not to yield, not to do this while someone gazes deeply into your eyes.

The look on your face says it all. “Are you shy, minxy?” he probes, voice low and dripping with want.

You can hear the beat of your own heart in your ears, and your voice is firm and tight when you answer, “maybe.”

“Do you want to do this for me?” his eyes flit back and forth between yours, searching them, fearing he’s asked you to do something you’re not actually into and ready to back off the nanosecond you tell him as much.

A beat passes, pressure pounding between your legs. “Yes,” you reply, and Sackler lets out a breath.

He crosses the tiled room to you quickly, grabs your face in his big warm palms and tilts your head up towards his, crashing his mouth to yours and caressing your lips and tongue with his in a hungry, hot, fierce kiss.

His intensity draws a soft moan from you, and almost immediately you melt into him, returning his kiss with fervour. But the second your muscles relax, you’re startled by the trickling stream of pee released from your bladder, and stop it almost instantly, involuntarily, your nerves getting the better of you. The pressure, the sharp stop, it _aches_.

But Sackler’s no stranger to stage-fright. Breaking the kiss, he murmurs against your lips, “don’t stop.”

You breathe in his air, try to relax and let go for him. Sackler waits a moment, grazing his lips over yours until he hears another trickle start—then stop, followed by an exasperated sigh from you.

But Sackler wants it too bad, his half-hard cock growing thicker and fatter and longer by the second. “Let it happen, minxy” he mumbles into your open mouth, “keep going, for me,” and he tilts his head to the other side to kiss you again, deeper and even more insistent this time.

You let yourself be distracted and seduced by his lips and words, and allow all your muscles to go slack, relaxing completely and gripping his forearms to anchor his hands to the sides of your face.

Suddenly, it’s not so hard—but it’s lewd. You finally let go, releasing all the hot piss you’d been hoarding inside yourself in a strong, powerful stream while Sackler passionately, greedily kisses you. It’s dirty and vulgar and sends sparks of arousal through your nerves, especially when he groans at the wet gushing sound of your pee hitting the water at the base of the bowl.

When your stream finally stops, your bladder empty and your body completely relieved, Sackler pulls away. Neither of you can steady your breathing or open your eyes for a few moments, panting into each other’s mouths with heavy-lidded eyes.

The next sound you hear is a gravelly, raspy groan of slurred words. It’s Sackler, and he’s murmuring, “minxy… let’s go fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeing and fucking in the shower.

Soon after that day, when he’d kissed you hard and deep enough to break through your inhibitions and make you piss in front of him, Sackler decides he wants to see it—he wants to _really_ see you do it.

Even though all bets had been off since that day.

Whenever the mood struck him, Sackler liked to listen to and watch you pee. Sometimes he’d carry you over his shoulder to the bathroom, sometimes he’d knock twice on the bathroom door before poking his head in.

Other times he’d stand in front of you and palm his crotch as he listened to the tinkling trill or forceful gush of your urine on the porcelain. He liked when you took your top off for those times.

He liked putting on shows for you, too. He took to peeing with the door open, peeing hands-free, even filming short clips on his phone and texting them to you when you weren’t home—or when you were in another room and didn’t come look when he called.

But his appetite had grown, and when you’d agreed to _more_ , he’d almost taken you down to City Hall to marry you on the spot.

“Here, minxy,” here and now he hands you another tall glass of water, barely able to contain his excitement. It was maybe your tenth, or twelfth, he’d lost count exactly—but he _was_ trying to keep track, trying to see how much you could take before you were _busting_ , and for all his gleeful enthusiasm he’d been nursing a semi for almost two hours now.

“Thanks, babe,” you take the glass from him and sip from it, sick of the taste of plain, pure water after drinking it for so long, with nothing but an ice cube in for variety. “God, not even some cordial?”

“You know we don’t keep that sugar water shit in this house.”

You roll your eyes and take another small sip, muttering under your breath, “they make sugar-free shit now, you di—,”

Sackler rounds on you, leaning over you and trying to be intimidating even though his pupils immediately dilate from being so close to your body. “The fuck’d you say to me, minxy?”

“I said…” you murmur, not missing a beat before bringing the glass to your lips and taking another sip.

His gaze is drawn to your lips, and just for fun you dart your tongue out to lick at an imaginary stray drop of water. Sackler mirrors your action with his own mouth, involuntarily. “Say it,” he growls.

You open your mouth to repeat yourself, but you feel that pull, that tug, that abrupt, insistent learned need that triggers a message from between your legs to your brain: you need to find a toilet.

Recognition flashes over your face, and Sackler notices your eyes widen even before you can tell him. “Now? You ready?” he asks, dropping all pretence at menace: his pupils blow out, his eyes black and sparkling like onyx.

You nod, suddenly acutely aware of how much water you’ve ingested as it all bears down on your insides.

“Shit,” he cusses under his breath, pulling away from you quickly and snatching the glass from your hand, setting it down on the kitchen counter. “Fuck, ok.”

“Ok,” you echo, catching his gaze and staring into his eyes for a beat. Sackler’s almost vibrating with excited jitters. You lean up and press a soft, delicate kiss to his lips—he sighs at the contact—before making your way into the bathroom.

You step into the shower tub, clothed in jeans and one of his old tees, green-grey in colour, and just shy of threadbare. There’s not a scrap of underwear on you, neither bra nor panties.

“I love when you wear my shit, minxy,” Sackler says from the door, slowly stalking a few steps into the bathroom, stopping a bit before the shower where he can get a good look at all of you, “looks fucking _great_ on you.”

You smile at his compliment, spread your feet apart _just_ a little bit, and say softly, “Sackler, babe, I need to pee.”

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly, his hands flying to unzip his jeans and prise his cock free of his trunks before murmuring darkly, “my dick’s so fuckin hard already.”

You drop your voice to match his, “I don’t know if I can hold it.”

“You drank s-so much, little minx,” his voice stutters as he starts to stroke his stiff, fat, length, “you can’t hold on a little longer?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, make your eyes all big and wide like you’re pleading with him to forgive a shameful truth. “I’m so _full_ ,” you husk, and his hips buck into his fist, “I won’t make it.” You motion to the toilet, and he groans.

“You won’t? Won’t sit your ass down like you—like you should, like a good—good girl would do?”

You squeeze your thighs together, only partly for show, and Sackler looses a shaky, breathy exhale. All the water, all this talk, very _very_ soon you’ll be full to bursting. “I think—babe, I think I’m gonna piss myself.” The magic words, words he’s been longing to hear.

“ _Goddd_ , fuck,” Sackler groans, his toes curling on the tiles. “You’re a filthy fucking thing,” he growls, a low throaty rumble while he pumps his thick cock, “you gonna be a dirty girl and make a big fuckin mess?”

You nod with vigour. “I can’t hold it,” your voice is tight, fraught, and it’s not such an act anymore.

“Perfectly good toilet right fuckin here, and you’re gonna dirty our shower, gonna pee all over yourself?”

It’s just building and building, a dam about to burst and flood, the pressure in your bladder just about unbearable. You gasp his name, a tense, taut plea.

“Jesus Christ, you really can’t hold it can you? Can’t hang on until you sit on your ass like you’ve been taught, aboutta piss and you don’t care where.”

“ _Adam_ ,” it’s breathless, “I’m, I’m really—,” you start to bend in on yourself a little more, trying to stave it off until the last possible second.

“Keep your fuckin legs apart,” he snarls, blinded by lust. “Dirty slut, you’re gonna do it, aren’t you? You’re gonna pee everywhere, make a mess and piss yourself, so much hot fuckin piss—,”

“ _Ohh_ ,” you can’t take it anymore, and gasp and sigh with the sweet relief of finally letting your hold on your insides go, your eyes watering from the pleasurable release of emptying your too full bladder – right there, in your jeans, in front of one Adam Sackler.

He can’t believe his eyes. At first a little wet patch soaks through the crotch of your jeans, then through denim on one leg, then the other, then the first patch spreads and grows and trails lower down your inner thigh, then so does the other, quickly catching up, and your _face_ , fuck, he just doesn’t know where to look. It intoxicates him, to watch the small dark patches of urine grow big and spread down your jeans as you continue to pee in them, sighing, eyes tearing up with satisfaction.

It feels wet, of course, but there’s something so comforting in the warmth of it, and something so arousing about locking eyes with Sackler, who beats his cock furiously and pants like an animal, and saying to him, “it’s running down my leg.”

“ _Hhhfuck,_ ” he groans, stepping closer to get a look at the floor of the shower tub. His cock throbs with arousal when he sees them, tiny little droplets of golden-tinged, light yellow pee on the white fibreglass. “Fuuuhhck, minxy… shit—,”

“You like seeing me piss myself?” you ask through a rush of aroused adrenalin, leaning back against the wall and shifting your legs so he can see the full extent of all the pee you just held and released.

“Fuck, minxy, I fucking love it. Turn around, bend over,” he says, and when you do—spreading your legs and pushing your ass back to expose another view of urine-soaked denim—Sackler looses a monstrously deep groan, shoves his jeans and trunks down his legs and clambers into the shower tub with you, completely naked.

You feel his hot breath fanning over your ear as he pants, “dirty fuckin whore, covered in her own piss.” He presses his hot, broad body against your back, reaching around your front to unbutton your jeans and slip his fingers inside, muscle memory seeking and finding your clit in an instant. “Can’t fucking wait to be covered in _mine_ , fucking slut, I know you want it.”

You groan and lean back into him, rocking your hips to aid the rub of his two fingers on your sensitive bud. “Did you drink enough, big boy? To pee all over me?”

He grunts into your ear, grinding his erection into your clothed ass as he rubs circles into your clit, “got so much piss for you, gonna pee all over your tits ‘n’ make you even dirtier.”

“You gonna cover me in it, Sackler?”

“Fuck,” he’s frustrated, “I’m too fuckin hard for this.”

You grab his wrist, stilling his movement, and drag his hand out of your jeans. You manoeuvre yourself so you’re on your knees before him, on the floor of the shower tub. “You know what I’m kneeling in, babe?” you ask him as you slowly drag his old tee up over your stomach and bare breasts.

Sackler’s lips quiver as he makes different shapes with them, trying to form words and settle his breathing at the same time. He pulls his lips between his teeth, and takes a deep breath in, nostrils flaring, before he says, “you’re kneeling in your own pee, dirty minx.”

“Yeah, yeah I am,” you assure him, “and you know what I want now?”

“You want me to pee on you.”

“And _you_ want to pee on me too, right?”

“Hhho yeah I do, make you my dirty fucking slut.”

“Well then, big boy, what are you waiting for?”

Sackler closes his eyes, and his brow furrows as he tries to quell his arousal. He releases a big sigh through his nose.

You’re careful not to touch him, and not to say anything more: at this point, he’s ready to fuck you into oblivion, but that’s not what he _really_ wants to do right now, and you kinda have to keep him on track.

After a few short moments of intense concentration on his part, Sackler’s erection subsides—not completely, but enough.

Slowly, Sackler opens his eyes: they’re dark dark dark, glimmering devilishly, and one corner of his mouth ticks up in a rakish, salacious half-smile. “You better be ready, minxy,” he says, voice so deep it’s all but reverberating with bass.

“Oh, I’m ready,” you reply, confident.

“Yeah? Ready for me to pee all over those tits? Cover you with my hot piss?”

“Do your _fucking_ worst, big boy,” you husk at him through a smile, and he grips and aims his dick and lets go.

A devious smile crosses his features as he unloads his bladder, humming as a steady, golden stream of urine is unleasjed from the tip of his dick, running hot over your breasts, down your stomach, soaking and soiling your jeans even further.

About half-way, Sackler has to really concentrate again, the sight of himself pissing on you as you kneel before him making his cock stiffen up all over again.

“Ahfuck,” he growls in frustration, as nought but little golden rivulets drip from his dick. “Shit, fuck it,” he says after a few moments, shaking off the last droplets, “get up here, get your jeans off—,”

You grip his hands and he helps pull you up.

“—gonna fuck you now, minxy.”

You hum, “been waiting all day for your big cock, Sackler.”

“You’re gonna fucking get it, dirty fuckin whore.”

You try to shuck your jeans off but it’s hard, they’re half-drenched and sticking to your skin. Sackler helps, tugging your jeans down with exaggerated groans of exertion as he yells at them, “get, the fuck, _off her!_ ”

Finally, your legs are free—if a little chilly—and free of distraction Sackler hikes one of your legs up to rest your foot on the ledge of the tub. He dribbles spit onto two fingers and easily finds your entrance, teasing your hole with his fingertips and rumbling, “you wanted my piss, and now you want my cum too. Filthy little whore, you’ll take anything won’t you, anything I give you.”

Matching him, you spit into your palm and grab his cock, slicking up the shaft and running your thumb over the head. “Anything,” you answer over top of his throaty groan of pleasure, “anything, I’ll take it, I’m _filthy_.”

“Filthy dirty slut for me,” he pants, sheathing the full length of his fat fingers inside you with one push, “covered in my piss,” crooking them and rocking them, grazing your walls with his knuckles.

“ _Shit_ ,” you hiss, the knee keeping you upright buckling, and you clutch his solid upper arm for support.

Sackler bucks into your fist, feeling your pussy walls clench on his fingers. He can’t take it anymore, can’t _not_ have it after all this playing and teasing and you turning him on so much. He growls and spins you around, “get on your knees.”

You drop down onto all fours on the floor of the tub, so fucking ready for him to pound his cock into you until you see white.

Sackler wastes no more time. He sees you stick your ass out for him as he kneels behind you, and growls as he gives you a firm slap on your right cheek for it. He guides his stiff dick through your pussy lips, coating the head of his cock in the silky cyprine leaking from your hole. “Fuhhckin shit,” he groans, “gonna fuck you so deep you won’t be able to stand the fuck up after.”

“You think your dick’s that long, Sac—,” you can’t even finish your sentence before he plunges into you, his thick cock buried to the hilt inside your wet heat in an instant.

You each let out ragged curses from the fullness, the tightness, and Sackler knows he’s stretching you out. “Tell me I’m big,” he says, panting as your cunt wraps around him beautifully, sucking him in impossibly deeper. He grabs hold of your hips, tight, keeping you there.

“You’re big,” you gasp, your pussy walls fluttering around his cock to adjust to the girth of it.

He huffs. “Tell me my dick is big—,”

“It’s big.”

“—and long.”

“Your dick is big and long, Sackler, Jesus, you wanna fuck me or you want to talk about your cock all day?”

He huffs a shaky, breathy sigh as he withdraws slightly, but then puffs out, “fuckin both” before he plows into you, bucking his hips in quick, long, deep, forceful thrusts that bounce your whole body forward and back along his fat cock.

“Fuck! _OhmyGod_ ,” you choke out, your bones already rattling in their sockets from the sheer sudden force of him.

“Jeeesus fucking Christ,” he bellows, drowning out the quick slick _slapslapslapslap_ of his flesh into yours. “ _God_ ,” the groan tears through his chest, “this fucking cunt is so tight on me.”

“Shit, fuck,” you curse through short, panting breaths, gripping onto the ledge of the shower tub with one hand and scrambling around trying to gain purchase on something, _anything_ , with the other, slipping in the little droplets of pee (yours or his?) scattered around the fibreglass.

“Tell me you love my cock,” Sackler grunts, gripping your hips tighter and pulling you back onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, _yes_ , I love your cock, so big,” you get out between short shallow breaths and gasping moans.

It’s like music, a symphony, like what a fuckin angel might sound like to him. “You love how I fuck you,” he grunts and huffs, “when I fuck you hard like this,” groans and puffs as he fucks his stiff fat cock into you, over and over and—

You try to answer, try to form any words at all, but Sackler punches all the air from your lungs as he ravages your cunt. The only thing you can manage is chants of his name, “Adam, Adam,” in short, tight gasps as your whole body heats up from the inside.

He fucking loves it, lives for these moments when you say his name like that. “Like to get fucked on your knees like a whore,” he growls, looking down at the glimpses of his slick, shiny cock disappearing inside you and the jiggling bouncing flesh of your ass cheeks as he snaps his hips against you.

“Fucking love it, I love it, _shit_ ,” you pant, your mind dumb to all other thoughts beside the perfectly rhythmic pounding Sackler’s giving you.

“Touch your clit,” he huffs out, and you do without hesitation, your fingers rubbing over the sensitive bud while your other hand flexes on the ledge, gripping tight.

“Thaaat’s it,” he says when he feels your pussy walls squeeze his cock even tighter. “I always knew you were a dirty bitch—”

The beginnings of your orgasm flicker in your cunt, and you moan for him, deep and guttural. Sackler eats it up, he knows you’re close, and quick rambling slurs tumble from his lips:

“—you let me piss on you, you pissed _yourself,_ you let me fuck you like this, all because I fucking wanted it.”

“God, fuck, Sackler— _Adam!_ ” It flares and bubbles, that heat and pressure and pleasure blooming and coiling inside you as he rails you relentlessly.

Sackler leans over you, pushing you slightly forward and down as he grumbles and growls through panted breaths, “’n’ now I want you to fucking cum, can you do that? Can you rub that little clit and cum for m—,”

“ _Fuck!_ ” you scream, your orgasm crashing down upon you, rolling through your entire body in waves and shocks of euphoria.

Sackler slams into you and holds your hips tight to his, pulling you back onto him and fully seating his cock inside your pulsing, convulsing, clenching cunt, giving you something long and thick and hard to grip onto as you shake and scream your way through the blissful contractions.

“Fuuhcking God _damn_ it,” the growl is ragged, guttural, as you cum on his cock. Sackler slowly starts to fuck into you again, listening for your little whimpers and sighs. “How are you,” he picks up the pace, a little faster, “even more,” faster now, and deeper too, “even fucking wetter than, _fuck_ ,” he bucks and rolls and snaps his hips, chasing his own release, “wettest fuckin cunt I ever—,”

“I know you like it sloppy, babe,” you puff out between his urgent, desperate thrusts, squeezing and sucking his cock with your pussy.

A deep growling groan throttles his throat, “fuckin—this wet little cunt’s gonna make me cum—”

You can’t help the moans that fall from your lips as he pounds into you.

“—sloppy fucking cunt for a dirty-fuckin-girl,” he accentuates the last words with exceptionally hard thrusts, losing rhythm and pace. “When I cum, I wanna see it, you’re gonna show me, minxy.”

“Yes Adam, yes Adam, _yes_ ,” you chant as he knocks the wind out of you, knowing breathless moans of his name almost always do him in.

“Fuuuckk,” he groans your name, “ _ohh_ , ff-fuck,” hips stuttering as his orgasm finally overwhelms him, his cock and balls twitching as he fills your pussy up with rope after rope of hot, thick cum—pumping into you with one of the longest, most powerful orgasms he’s ever experienced.

When his contractions subside, and his groans settle back to normal breathing, he eases out of you, his cock softening but so purply-red and slippery wet. He sits back on his haunches, breath ragged, and says, “show me,” as he spreads your slick, puffy, swollen pussy lips apart.

You try to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, and give some half-hearted squeezes while he gazes, fixated, at your cunt.

“Push it out, squeeze it out,” he slaps a firm hand down on your ass cheek, “come on, dirty minx, show me all my cum I put in here.”

You tilt your hips, clenching and clamping down on nothing, to squeeze his cum out of your pussy.

Soon, the first couple of creamy globs seep from your hole, and drip onto the floor of the shower tub.

“Fuck,” Sackler groans lowly, “your fucking body, minxy…” he trails off, in awe, in adoration, transfixed by the sight of more of his pearly white cum oozing out of your pussy. “You’re filthy,” he says.

You flick your head over your shoulder to look back at him. “Clean me?” you reply, and gesture to the showerhead.

Sackler grins.


End file.
